Lionheart
by Divinia Serit
Summary: Episode Tag and SPOILERS for 4x24 The Crimson Hat- the missing 6 months. "In a few days, he'd be sitting on the couch laughing about the success of his latest con. She was sure of it." FINAL PART UP.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Episode Tag and SPOILERS for 4x24 The Crimson Hat during the missing 6 months.

Of course I had to come up with something after that wonderful finale. My shipper heart is still quite ecstatic! I'm thinking about doing one from Jane's perspective too. We'll see! The title is taken from one of my new favorite bands- Of Monsters and Men, song: King and Lionheart. Love this group!

For the Paint it Red May Challenge inspired by the prompt: "**I'd rather be causing the chaos, Than living at the sharp end of this knife.** (Gabrielle Aplin - Home)" And speaking of PIR, you should go vote for the paint it red awards! Of course, I'd love it if you'd go vote for me, but you really should check out all the wonderful stories nominated and vote for your favorites!

For Ebony10- cause you're awesome!

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_"And as the world comes to an end, I'll be here to hold your hand._  
_Cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart."_  
_- Of Monsters and Men, King and Lionheart_

The next morning everything felt the same. She went about her normal morning routine without a hint of discord, grabbed a chocolate chip pumpkin muffin to go, and made it to work in record time. It wasn't until she was faced with an empty couch that the bottom dropped out of her stomach and she shivered with a cold, clammy chill. Brushing her personal feelings aside, she flipped through new mail and files and tried to prevent her eyes from searching for Jane's familiar presence. Her team made small talk, the rest of the office avoided her, and she was content to bask in the delusion that nothing of significance had happened. After all, Jane was practically fired every day. Even Wainwright's scowl lessened as he passed by her office later that afternoon. In short, she had the most productive day in years.

After a week, she thought the twinge of Jane's absence would have lessened. But it didn't. She continued to go about her day with the others continuing to give her space. She was convinced that it was all a ruse. He had masterminded a similar scenario with her in the lead role not long before, so it wasn't much of a stretch to believe he had done something comparable. He had been known to go off the grid before, especially if he had an urge that something was related to Red John. She kept telling herself that she wasn't too worried about him. She'd send him another text, and in a few days, he'd be sitting on the couch, slapping Wainwright on the back, and laughing at the success of his latest con. She was sure of it.

When a month had passed with no word from Jane, she couldn't ignore the situation any longer. She called, and left a rambling message demanding he give her an update. Later, she texted him that the team was concerned, and that even Wainwright had asked about him. Surreptitiously, she began to inquire about his whereabouts. She stayed late- even by her standards- and attempted to trace his phone with no success. She even took a personal day to drive to Malibu, only to find the beach house locked and boarded up with no signs of recent habitation. Her nails were bitten to the quick, her desk was impossibly straightened, and she was still brimming with nervous energy. Her ammunition budget skyrocketed as her hours at the firing range drastically increased. She began to shut herself off from her team, not wanting to burden them with feelings she couldn't even admit to herself.

On the two month mark, she opened her bottom desk drawer for the first time since Bosco's death. Her calls grew increasingly frequent as her demands gave way to ire. How dare he leave them without an explanation. Her headaches increased, and her dentist scolded her for the increased tension in her jaw. The others avoided her, wary of her sharp tongue and short temper. Wainwright awkwardly attempted to inquire about Jane, but even he was met with a pointed glare. Her face became more angular as she lost weight. Van Pelt remarked that Jane had often been the only one to get their boss to eat. The couch was removed from the bullpen, and no one had the courage to question the change in décor. She threw herself into her work, and their closure rate continued to remain high.

By the third month, Lisbon was still trying to keep up appearances although dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her hair hung limply down her back. When asked if she was okay, she'd flippantly respond before diving headfirst into their current case. She'd often assign Cho as the designated driver while she quietly slept in the passenger seat. It was obvious to her team that she hadn't been sleeping. They silently agreed to protect her as much as possible. They took turns bringing in food to leave on her desk and rejoiced if half of it was eaten. She'd give them looks that told them she knew what they were up to, but she didn't have the strength to protest. Her current tequila bottle disappeared quicker than the one before it, and she welcomed the burn that chased away her feelings of uselessness and inadequacy. Did they- she- really mean that little to him?

After the fourth month, Cho intervened when he found Lisbon asleep in her office two mornings in a row. For the first time in her career, her personal life began to affect her performance as she ran herself into the ground. Their case closure rate tumbled, not because she didn't care, but because her drive seemed to have disappeared. They still solved cases, but not as fast. Wainwright went to her office to speak about the team's recent performance, but stopped when he found her staring out the window with a case file in hand. Taking a deep breath, he gave Cho a look, to which the stoic agent replied with a nod. Later that night, Cho stopped by her townhouse with a small grey kitten with tuxedo markings and told her no one else could take him. Lisbon smiled for the first time since Jane had been fired.

When five months had passed, she found traces of him in Vegas. Watching her kitten, a bundle of mischief and chaos all on his own and appropriately named Loki, tumble around the room she picked up her cell phone and pressed number one on speed dial. She left one last message, once previous demands now reduced to begs, before hanging up. She was currently content to know that he was alive and well, and now the next move would be up to him. Her team could tell the difference in her and greeted her with small smiles. She rolled her eyes and tossed out orders as if the past few months hadn't happened. Their small smiles turned to full-fledged grins when she returned to her office. Things weren't back to normal, but it was a step in the right direction.

By the sixth month, their closure rates had increased. They still weren't back to the record rates they had achieved with Jane, but Lisbon knew Wainwright was pleased with the improvements. She locked her bottom desk drawer and began to return phone calls that were long overdue. Van Pelt urged her to take a spa day with her, and Lisbon reluctantly agreed knowing she needed all the help she could get bringing her appearance back to normal. Loki continued to wreak havoc around her house bringing bittersweet amusement with antics that reminded her of Jane. She hadn't called Jane in three weeks, but she continued to check on his whereabouts as best she could. She carved out time every week to stop by her church to try to clear her mind, rebalance her soul, and pray that Jane would come home soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, darn. Somehow, my oneshot has turned into a three part story. The first part seemed a bit abrupt at the end, and so I couldn't leave it alone! This part is from Jane's POV, and the final chapter which will hopefully be posted soon, will be a tag for the end of the episode. I'm much happier with this idea, and I thrilled that I'm finally able to focus enough to write it! PS- I forgot how hard I find writing Jane! Fun times.**

Thanks to: TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, MerriWyllow, La Lisboa, Donnamour1969, Tromana, J Judit J, Jenny Krakowski, MentalistFan123, and Kaoh for reviewing the first part. I greatly appreciate it!

For Tromana- who is far too kind to me.

**Also- guess who has two thumbs and can now walk a few steps without a cane? Yup! This girl! Woohooo! Still have lots of PT before me, but it's lovely to see progress!**

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_"Howling ghosts they reappear,_  
_In Mountains that are stacked with fear._  
_But you're a king and I'm a lionheart."_  
_-Of Monsters and Men, King and Lionheart_

The day after he was fired, Jane's internal alarm roughly pulled him from another night of lacking sleep. He stumbled into the bathroom and started to shave. It wasn't until his shirt was halfway buttoned that he realized he no longer had a job. Sinking back onto his bed, he stared at the ceiling mentally cataloging what everyone else would be doing. Rigsby would be running late after a morning diaper change. Van Pelt, eager to work, would be arriving right about now, and Cho would be five minutes behind her. Lisbon would have arrived at the office an hour ago, prepared to roll her eyes when he dropped a muffin on her desk. He frowned when he realized there wouldn't be any muffins this morning. That thought alone was enough to make him almost reach for his phone. But he didn't.

A week later, he had fallen into some semblance of a routine. He still woke up at five in the morning, and he still ate a muffin at six. He could clearly picture her wrinkled nose and small shake of her head as he led her on with another ridiculous anecdote over breakfast. It almost made him believe that nothing had changed. Scanning a newspaper, he decided it was time to implement the next stage of his plan. He had closed up the Malibu house and taken care of all the details and bills that might come up in the next year. He collected his cash reserves and found a seedy little motel across the Nevada state line. His phone was turned off, but he carefully stored it next to the requisite Bible in the top drawer of the nightstand. He ran his fingers over the embossed cross.

After a month, he moved on from the roadside hotel and found a more permanent room on the outskirts of Vegas. He continued to keep a low profile during the day, while his frequency of habituating bars at night increased. His clothes became threadbare and rumpled, and his eyes took on a manic haze. He spent more days with stubble that grew to scruff, but his appearance didn't matter. In the evenings he walked aimlessly, organizing his thoughts while others avoided his gaze. He pulled a few small cons- nothing major- from people who wouldn't miss a dime. He felt like a modern day Robin Hood, only he was armed with sleight of hand instead of a bow. He would always protect Maid Marion- whether she knew it or not.

By the second month, he had redeveloped a taste for tequila. He could easily toss back a shot with the rest of the good ole boys, even if every shot reminded him of her. He became a regular in backroom card games, making enough to get by, but not enough to tip his hand. He become more rowdy and outspoken without Lisbon there to censor him from trouble, and he had the black eyes and bruises to prove it. He began to lose weight, not that he cared much for eating, so he shoplifted a few new shirts without a second glance. He enjoyed the flirt with the law, and he could only imagine her tirade for his actions. He was reckless, and a small part of him enjoyed the day to day living without a care for anyone else. He'd never admit it, but another part of him wanted her to find him.

When the third month approached, he decided it was time to move on. He was getting too comfortable and the locals were getting too familiar with him. He stopped paying his rent and arranged to be thrown out of his motel with a minor scuffle. Surely, he looked to be at his wit's end. He allowed himself a few minutes at a pay phone to check his messages, his grip tightening on the receiver when he heard her voice. Swallowing a knot, he schooled his features, and hung up without listening to the rest of her pleas. He relocated closer to the center of Vegas, performing card tricks and psychic readings for tourists- nothing major that would bring him to anyone's attention. He continued his nightly walks, talking out loud with Angela and Charlotte while trying to justify his decisions.

During the fourth month, he saw her on a news report. She looked broken, but he couldn't rip his eyes away from the screen. He swiped the remote out of the bartender's hand, and increased the volume hoping to hear her voice. He watched as she tiredly swept her bangs from her eyes. Her features were sharp and angular in the light of the cameras. Her voice still had a sharp edge, but the fight was gone from her eyes. Cho stood off to the side, and he could see the worry radiate from the other agent even on the screen. He drunk himself into oblivion that night, and wondered if it was worth it. Would his plan even work, or would he have to sink farther into the miserable hellhole of his own creation. When he awoke, he decided the hangover was little in the way of penance for what he had done to Lisbon.

On the fifth month, he reorganized his thoughts and decided to elevate his plan. A few previous shady dealings had him on the move, and he quickly found another place in Vegas. He tried to avoid conflict as best he could, but in reality, he found he didn't care. A few well-placed readings later, and he found his popularity beginning to grow. He was sure Red John would reach out soon. He tried to become more involved in the social scene, but his heart wasn't really in it. He turned down countless offers of women's beds and spent the nights reviewing the Red John files he had committed to memory. He found himself watching the news more often hoping to catch a glimpse of her or the team, but nothing else had surfaced since the previous month. Anger began to surface, and he become more reckless with his readings.

The night of the sixth month, he met Lorelei. He was tempted to brush her aside like all the others, but there was something about her that drew him in. She had a strange vulnerability, yet still radiated strength, as anyone would need for living and working in Vegas. He found himself wanting to let her in, and the stress of the past six months pushed him to do something he never considered. In the morning he realized the sex didn't make him feel any better. He doubted he'd see her again, but she seemed too sweet to just cast aside after a flurry of urges and kisses. He thanked her for breakfast, gave her a hopeful goodbye, and planned to move on to another motel. Then, she dropped the bombshell that even he wasn't expecting.

One week later, he followed Lisbon into the church and had to stop himself from running after her and ruining everything he had sacrificed the last six months. Sitting so close, he wanted to reach out and touch her. Pull her against him, and tell her he was sorry. He vowed to tell her everything. Everything except Lorelei.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I've been made aware through a circulating tweet from one of the Mentalist writers that Jane did know that Lorelei was part of Red John's plan from the beginning. However, I'm leaving the second part up as standing under the belief that Jane didn't know. Yay for creative license! Also, I know there have been many beliefs bouncing around about whether Jane meant 'love you' or if it's another part of his schemes. For the sake of this part- and because I'm a hopeless romantic- I've operated under the preference that he does love Lisbon and it was a subconscious slip. I don't know if I believe they'd have a conversation like this quite so soon, but for the sake of the story and this particular tag- I wanted them to confront their feelings about everything that's happened. After all, that's the glory of episode tags!

Thank you to: La Lisboa (for the wonderful conversation as well!), xXxStargazerxXx, watchyouwalk (for both 1 & 2), Mentalistfan123, Quathy, LizfromItaly, Tromana, TwighlighLover-carlisleandesme, and SharpestSatire for their reviews!

Thank you all for reading! Here's the final part!

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_And in the sea that's painted black,  
Creatures lurk below the deck  
But you're the king and I'm a lionheart._

_And as the world comes to an end_  
_I'll be here to hold your hand_  
_Cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart._  
**_-King and Lionheart, Of Monsters and Men_**

He stood in her doorway, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes. His hand tightened on the frame of the door, and his eyes scanned the bullpen before returning to a quiet form behind a desk. Lisbon was ignoring him- intently focused on the paper in front of her. The same piece of paper she had been staring at for the past ten minutes. He could tell by the way she gripped her pen, resolutely avoiding his gaze. She rolled a loose strand of hair between her thumb and her index finger before tucking it behind her ear. A lump formed in his throat at such an ordinary habit that was so typical of her. He had missed her more than he realized. He swallowed, trying to force it away. He was strangely hesitant given his recent outburst in the interrogation room. But for once in his life, he was unsure of how to break the silence. In the past, he would have opened with a witty quip and enjoyed watching her eyes flash as her lips quirked in amusement before shooting back a sharp response. Too much had happened between them. Too much to just brush off with a casual comment.

Sure, it had been easy over the past day. Easy enough that he could pretend everything was normal while they followed Lorelei's lead, but even in his manic state, he knew they were on eggshells. She hid it surprisingly well. His return had been a shock, and she responded in a way true to her nature- jumping in beside him, no matter what the consequence to her career. It was obvious, especially from the team's comments that they had only gone along with his plan was because of her. Not that he expected anything less after disappearing for six months. He could feel their judgmental gazes, the anger for the way he had left things- left her. But they didn't understand why he did what he did. They wouldn't. She might. Earlier, she had let him in. Entering the church with her heart on her sleeve, and showing him a brief glimpse of the depth of pain the past six months had sowed. But the day had been long and full of twists and turns, and now that it was over, she was retreating into herself.

He took a small step into her office, letting the door shut slowly behind him. She still wouldn't look up at him. He hesitated and waited for her to fuss at him, to yell at him to leave, to throw something- anything other than her resigned silence. Nothing. Surely, she understood his reasons. He had told her long ago that everything was about Red John, and that he'd never be what she wanted. He opened his mouth, and then pressed his lips together, before slowly turning on his heel. His hand gently turned the doorknob, and he left without a word. The door softly clicked shut behind him. After a few days, the camaraderie would return, and Lisbon would forgive him. She had to.

Teresa Lisbon rested her head in her hands. Her top teeth tugged at her bottom lip as she took a deep breath, and tried to ignore everything that had happened the last few days. Working with Jane had reminded her of how things used to be- the easy going rapport they had developed. But after everything the bastard had put her through the last six months, she refused to be the first one to cave. If Jane wanted anything else from her, he'd have to make the first move. And he'd proved her right. He couldn't even offer a simple thank you- just a few minutes of strained silence, before turning and leaving. Accepting the fact that she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else tonight, she grabbed her wallet and keys and left her office without a word to anyone else. She could feel her team's concerned stares; the unspoken question of how she was doing lingered in the air. Folding her arms across her chest, she wished the elevator would arrive faster.

It was drizzling.

Cursing, she wrapped her arms tighter around herself as she walked briskly towards her car. Fumbling through her pockets, she swiftly unlocked the door and slid into the seat. Before she could even crank up the engine, the passenger door opened and Jane slipped in beside her. Her heart continued to beat rapidly after the unexpected intrusion, and she leveled him with a harsh stare.

"Lisbon-." He trailed off at the unexpected hardness in her glare.

"Jane, don't," she muttered while reaching for her seat belt.

She jumped when his fingertips softly grazed her hand. He met her startled eyes with a searching expression, and she quickly pulled away. He was always more tactile when he wanted something, not that she'd ever alert him to that little tell.

"I don't want you to monitor my pulse, act like you want to reassure me, or tell me I should have known all along."

The words tumbled from her mouth.

"_Just_… leave," she said with a soft sigh. "I obviously can't keep you here."

He strained to hear the second half of her sentence, and when the words registered he briefly closed his eyes.

"Lisbon, please," he paused. "I was sure you'd understand. It had to look real. Red John was keeping a close eye, and-"

She cut him off, and returned to staring intently at the rain drops trickling down the windshield.

"I've had enough of Red John for the day. I just want to go home, have a glass of wine, and go to bed."

They sat in silence, listening to the hypnotic rhythm as the rain picked up. Despite her statement, she wasn't going to shove him out of the car and into the rain. They both knew that.

"Thank you," he said after a moment.

She turned to look at him, her gaze softening slightly.

"Was it worth it?"

He could hear the implied meaning behind the direct question.

"If it leads me to Red John, then yes," he answered.

She responded with a small nod, and cranked the engine, letting heat fill the enclosed space. She picked her way through muddled thoughts debating what to ask, now that Jane appeared to be answering her honestly. Her hand trailed along the steering wheel, and although the car remained in park, her eyes flickered toward the rear view mirror.

"About what I said earlier," he started slowly, his eyes fixated out the passenger's window.

"I wish you'd never told me," she softly interrupted.

His eyes shot to hers acknowledging the fact that neither wanted to delve that deep while they were still hurting, still reeling from the events of the day, still finding their ground. Instead, they'd continue to do what they always did- dance around each other speaking half-truths while Red John continued to loom before them.

"We'd never work," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Nope," he agreed.

We'll always be at an impasse- the way that we are."

"Of course," he murmured while she smiled a little half-smile.

"Besides, it's no surprise this was what _he_ planned all along. I'll always come between you and him."

She leaned her head against the headrest, and stared at the ceiling. She could feel him studying her, and she wondered just how far they'd play this confession. A little part of her had always known Red John would pull her in eventually. No one would be left untouched by the case. It just wasn't how the serial killer operated. So, she wasn't even surprised when Jane called her, apprehensively letting her know that her dead body was the price to play Red John's game. Instead, she let out a humorless laugh and wondered if this is what it would one day come down to- Jane's revenge or her life. She was drawn from her thoughts by the gentle pressure of his hand on her thigh. Reaching down, she gently curled her fingers around his and sighed.

"Despite the things you do, Jane. You had to know I'd fall for you."

He squeezed her hand tighter, and it gave her the courage to continue. After tonight, she knew neither of them would bring it up again. It was just the way they both were.

"If we pretend you never said it, I might make it. Otherwise…I have no chance. Not with Red John."

Leaning over, he pressed a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth while his right hand ran through her hair. He drew her close to him, her cheek resting against his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he stroked her hair once more before releasing her.

"You're far too good to me, Teresa," he whispered.

Without another word, he opened the door and stepped into the rain.

She watched him in the mirror as he re-entered the building. She knew she'd over-analyze their conversation tomorrow wondering if he even told her the truth or if it was a conscious slip to further his plans. Either way, she was content plead ignorance tonight. Tomorrow, they'd both act as if nothing happened, as if nothing had been said. She was okay with that. She'd cling to whatever hope she could find that maybe, just maybe, she could change Jane's mind. In any event, it all depended on Red John.

And that, was a problem for another day.


End file.
